Dream Lover
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: Takes place after Lexmas AU, Luthorcest, all my normal warnings. Lex's body may be healing but he needs comfort in order to fully heal
1. Home at last

Warnings: The following fic contains Lex being angsty, an alternate universe, as well as Lex/Lionel Luthorcest, under age father son relationships, and all my usual nonsense.

I was released from the hospital almost a month ago and I'm still having nightmares. Not about the getting shot, but . . .Jesus, Fuck! I'm not supposed to be this way. I haven't had a nightmare since I was a kid, a pathetic weak child. I guess it's a good thing that Dad took over with Luthorcorp stuff because with the nightmares and physical therapy and well actually that seems to be about all I ca handle right now—but the point is that I just don't think I'd be able to handle being in charge of a fucking TV remote, let alone a whole company.

I keep having the same dream over, and over, and over. I can't make it stop. It's like right after mom died. I don't think I slept for a month afterwards and even then the only reason I got any rest at all was because—my father didn't do anything wrong. I woke up one night, after one of my dreams and I just couldn't take it anymore. I was home from school for the summer and Dad was, well, Dad. We had some stupid fight over me cry or something like that.

He said that, "you're too emotional about this whole thing, Lex." And then some crap about how unLuthorish it was for me to crazy and I just started to scream at him.

"Maybe you're not emotional enough! Do you even care? She was your wife! What the hell s wrong with you?" That was about the time that I stormed off. That night I went to bed but I couldn't sleep. Before she died, my mother made me promise to try and get along with my father. I think she thought I might have a good influence on him, or that if we could get along things would be okay. All I know is that she made me promise and it was giving me these god-awful dreams, every night.

So, I went to find him, and apologize. It wasn't that late; I figured he'd still be up. When I knocked on his door I heard this sound. I thought that . . .but it couldn't be. It just couldn't be. It sounded like he was crying. When he came to the door I couldn't believe my eyes. He _was_ crying. At first I was just mad. I started sobbing and beating at him with my hands and screaming.

"It's alright, Lex. It's alright." He wrapped his arms around me. He fucking hugged me. I didn't know how much more I could take. I just stood there, crying, and he just stood there, holding me, He cried too, and then rubbed my back a little.

"Dad—I—how could—you said that . . ." I couldn't think. I couldn't talk. I thought I was going out of my mind.

"I know, and I'm sorry." He let go of me then but I latched onto him with my arms. I was hurting and scared and cold, and being close to him made me feel less bad. I couldn't leave. "Go on, we can talk more in the morning. Okay?" No, not okay. I couldn't move. I couldn't leave.

"Dad please. Can I just stay here? I—I'll sleep on the floor, in the closet, in the bathroom. I just can't be alone right now. I need to be near somebody. I need to be near you." He hugged me again, but now he was more aware of the situation and the hug was much more awkward.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor. There's more than enough room for two people," he said patting my back hopping I'd let go.

"Please, don't let me go. Please." And then, he just held me and some how we got to the bed and I fell asleep. I came back every night for two weeks before anything physical happened and even then I was the one who started tings. Just lying there with his arms around me. It was the first time I'd ever felt like my father cared about me. It was calming, comforting, but as time went on, I sort of got used to things and I needed more and more contact.

I started waking myself up in the morning before Dad got up and I just started to sort of explore. At first I was scared and I would just sort of stick my hand out and touch his face but I had to be quick 'cos I was afraid he'd wake up. I didn't want that. I wanted to feel him, to feel something, anything. But then that wasn't enough. I wanted more; I needed more. I started touching for longer, rubbing, stroking.

That was when he woke up. And he was staring at me and I was scared shitless. I wanted to get up and run. I had to leave. I couldn't come back. It was all true. I was a freak and there was something seriously wrong with me. Only, he wouldn't let me go. He wasn't mad. He understood. He was hurting too. We both needed something and neither of us could figure it out on our own.

I kissed him, and he kissed me back and we just kept kissing. I hadn't ever really done anything before—I mean there had been one terrifying terrific, stupid, adolescent thing between me and this girl (a friend of Bruce's) when I was eleven, but other than that, nothing—so I was kind of bad but he wasn't and he showed make how to do things right. He put his hand on my stomach and then slid it down, pulling my shorts off. Then he started kissing my chest, and my stomach, and lower and lower. He kissed just above my cock.

Then, this is embarrassing. I came so fast that, thinking about is completely mortifying, it was then too, but he understood, and he just held me after. He was hard too, and I kept thinking I should do something. I even tried. I started to move my head down but he took my face in his hands and he just sort of gave me this look.

"Lex, this is important. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do. I don't want to hurt you." It completely blew my mind. I had never heard anything like that before, not form him. It was almost like he cared. He never cared about anyone. He certainly didn't care about me.

"But—what do you—how do you—I cant—you," I started crying, again, and he held me and kissed my head and my cheeks and he rubbed my back more.

"I'm sorry, Lex. I shouldn't have done that. It's all right. Why don't you go back to your room, and try and forget about it. Okay?"

"No. I liked it. I needed it, Dad. I hurt so bad, and when you, when I touched you, when you touched me all the pain—it was just, gone." It wasn't exactly articulate but I was chocking on tears and scared and sad, but it worked . . .for a while anyway. We became lovers and for the first time in my life I felt like he really cared. He even said that he loved me. I don't know how it ended or why we stopped but things just sorted of ended by the time I was fifteen.

We've been through a lot then. First there was the whole thing with my wild adventures in Metropolis, I wont even think about what I did there. Then he sent me away and when he tried to bring me back I wouldn't come. Then he was blind and there was the thing with Lucas. After that Was Belle Reve thing and I hated him for so long and he got out of prison and into Clark's body, and tried to kill me. Then he changed. He got out of prison, again, and there was more, but it was all really bad. Then I got shot, and now I'm having the nightmares again.

I just want them to stop. If they don't go away soon it's really going to fuck me up, but I cant go to him. He would see it as weakness. He wouldn't give me anything and he would never let me forget that I asked. He might even send me back to Belle Reve if I told him about the nightmares. God just make them stop. Please, stop. Mom, I'm sorry but I can—I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. Somebody help me. Please, help me.


	2. First Encounter

Same warnings as the last chapter: Also. I don't know how old Lex is supposed to be on the show but this is my fic so I'm making him 25. If he's not, that's too bad. If I get even on review on the fact that this is wrong I will stop writing this fic. You'll never get to see how it ends, and if I know you like I think I do, you want to see the ending of this one, more than any of the others.

TWO DAYS LATER:

Lionel came by to see me today. Notice that I called him Lionel and not Dad or, my dad, or my father. What does that say about how fucked up our relationship has gotten? I mean Hell he put my life into the worst most dangerous situation because he didn't want me to look weak. Granted this wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't been such a stupid fuck and gotten myself shot, but I did and then he went and he . . . I mean, _fuck_. Would it really have been that bad if I had been, well maybe it would be, but he still had no right to make that decision for me.

Anyway he bursts into my room, my bedroom, like he thought I ought to be doing something. I was asleep, mid-nightmare, so I nearly hit my head on the ceiling I jumped so high. Then he sits down on the edge of my bed and he, I mean, fuck. There he was right in front of me and all I could do was sit up and scream. Then he touched my scar.

"How are things going," he asked and I knew he isn't doing it because he cared but because he wanted me to doing something or he expected something. I guess I'm not being a very good Luthor. Apparently I'm supposed to heal from getting shot like it's a fucking _sliver_, and go on being . . . "The reason I ask, is because I wanted to start to ease you back into work."

"Ease me back in? What the fuck are you talking about Dad? Either I'm going to work, or I'm not. There's no middle," he cut me off.

"You need to take it ease. If you work yourself to hard you'll just wind up back in the hospital." That wasn't a threat. If he as going to threaten to send me back to Belle Reve he would mention it by name.

"And if I don't push myself hard enough I'm weak? Isn't that about right, Dad," I stress the last word so hard it hurts.

"Where is this coming from?" I had to get up. I knew if I stayed in bed with him like that any longer I wouldn't be able to hide my excitement with Lionel being in my bedroom. So I went over to the closet and started looking for clothes.

"Only the past twenty five years of my life, Twenty five years of you telling me what I'm supposed to do who I'm supposed to be. I'm not you, okay? I'm just not." I didn't even give him a chance to respond.

I just walked out of the room, ran down the hall and into the bathroom, and beat off. I sat there with my hand around my cock and I closed my eyes and remembered. I remember his smooth hands and his rough face against my skin. I remember his taste and the way he smelled naked as I was falling a sleep.

I remember the sound of his voice and him saying, "I love you." And then just as I'm about to climax I call out to him.

"Daddy," I whisper as the fluid spills out of my body. Only, when I cum it's more like a painful bleeding. I cleaned myself off, flushed d the toilet and cried. I fucking cried for the fist time since I was a kid. I had this sick feeling in my stomach that Lionel was standing outside the door but he wasn't. I went back to my room, empty, safe. I closed the door and then I curled up in a ball on the bed and cried myself back to sleep. I am never going to be a real Luthor. I just wish I were strong enough to leave him.

Maybe if I played my cards right I could have some of the good stuff without the pain of loosing everything. Not that it matters. I could never leave. He knows it. I know it. The only one who doesn't seem to get it keeps giving me these dreams. It's like she'd holding this bright shiny toy out in front of me and snatching it way as soon as I'm stupid enough to reach for it. I know, really bad analogy, but I'm too sleeping deprived to think about anything else. Damn nightmares! Luthors aren't afraid of the boogieman. I'm not supposed to do this anymore.

I was never supposed to be like this. The worst part is, I don't even remember the nightmares. There's this sort of hazy feeling when I wake up and I'm covered in a thin film of sweat, my heart is racing and I can hardly breath. I have these flashes in my head from the dream like snap shots: me and this little boy at a Christmas tree lot, Mom, Christmas cookies coming out of an oven, Dad, a hospital room, Mom again, and then it's like I step outside of my body because I see myself the way that someone else would, only I look like hell. There are tears in my eyes and on my face, and. Everything is very blurry except for those images. They are so clear. Too clear.

How did I get like this? It can't all be form getting shot, can it? I wish I could make it all stop. I can't keep saying that. I'm Lionel Luthor's son damnit! I shouldn't be having frequent nightmares let alone letting them get to me this badly! I have to come up with some sort of a plan. There has to be a way to deal with this. I think I'll go downstairs and talk to Dad about the whole "easing me back into work thing." If I apologize for this morning's hissy fit, and show him that I'm not losing it he might even consider keeping his promise.

If I keep myself busy enough it should keep me from hurting. That always worked before. I just have to convince Li—Dad—that I'm not losing my mind. He might let me come back to Luthorcorp to work. He always said that his plan was for us to rule together but I don't think either of us is good enough at sharing to be partners.

I think he might put me in the position directly beneath him though. That wouldn't be terrible. It's pretty much all I ever expected. I never even thought I'd get control until he was dead, and it looks like that's the way things are going to be, but that's okay. I don't want control of the company, just of my life, just of my nightmares.


	3. Can you read my mind?

Warnings are the same as the previous chapters.  Feedback would be much appreciated.

"Can you read my mind? Do you know what is that you do to me?"—Lois Lane (Superman The Movie)

I have to get dressed first, before I go see him. It's bad enough that I've been lounging around in a pair of pajama pants all morning, but I sure as hell cant have a serious conversation with Lionel—dad—like that. I figure something more casual would be fine, slacks and a sweater. No need for a jacket or tie. I can also wear loafers, he wont comment. At least as long as I don't leave the mansion like this he doesn't care. When I enter the library, Dads sitting behind the desk working on something at the computer. The scene is almost . . .there's something familiar. I just can't figure it out. Where did I see this? He stands up to greet me. Then there's one of our awkward half hugs/hand shakes, and he sits back down.

"I want to start by apologizing for my behavior this morning. I wasn't—I didn't sleep well last night and," he cuts me off.

"I don't want to hear whatever your excuse is Lex." There's another awkward moment—for me anyway—and then he looks up from the computer. "Can I assume your coming to me means you've decided to accept my offer?"

"Well, there are a few details that we need to hammer out first, but yes. I want to come back to Luthorcorp if you'll still have me."

"Of course I'll have you. You're my son. There will always be a position for you. I just want you to be careful Lex. You've been through a lot lately."

"I get it, Dad. I was shot. I could have died. I'll take it easy, and as far as working goes, I'll take whatever you give me."

"Just like that," he eyes me suspiciously, "what happened to hammering out the details?"

"Look, I know I'm not quiet myself yet. If I went back to what I was doing before, well, I cant. But there's no reason for anyone other than you to suspect that I'm not 100. Understand?"

"Is that all you want," he asks, laughing. Then he stands up and touches my face, softly.

"No," I move his hand away and he doesn't fight to keep the physical contact. Part—no all of me wishes he would. "I expect you to treat me with the respect and courtesy that I deserve."

"You'll sit in on all board meetings and presentations. Other than that do what you can, and we'll see how things are going in a few weeks, huh?" It's a test, of course. He says do what I can but if I don't live up to his standards I could find myself back managing the Crap factory or worse. I can't manage a coherent sentence, so, I just nod. "You'll start tomorrow. There's a meeting with the plant managers at 8:00, I expect you to be there. On time."

"Look, Dad, I um—thought that maybe we—I mean that maybe we could—I thought—if you wouldn't mind." I can't believe this! I'm acting like a complete idiot. I just wish I could ask him.

"Lex, get to the point," he says, not even looking up fro m the computer screen, which is probably a good thing since I know I look like shit.

"When I said I didn't sleep well last night, I wasn't being completely honest. I haven't had a goodnights sleep since I came home." He looks up and there's genuine concern in his eyes. It only takes an instant for me to realize that the concern is, naturally, not about my well-being but the possible liability I could be. "I—I've been having these dreams . . ."

"Well that's to be expected after an ordeal like yours, but you have to be careful, Son. You cant continue to allow these dreams to have this much of an effect on you. I'm concerned Lex. If you like I could arranger for you to," now it's my turn to cut him off.

"I'm fine, Dad, really, I—I'm fine." Damnit. I can't believe I just did that. Maybe I do belong at Belle Reve. This is stupid. He doesn't love me. He never loved me. God. I'm never going to sleep again. He looks at me again, another quick glance from the computer. It's meaningless. "Is there anything I could do, this afternoon?" Good idea, keep busy.

"I think you should get some rest. You look tired." That's code for, you look like shit and I trust you about as far as I can throw you. It's pretty bad. I didn't think things could ever get worse than they were, and now of course, they have. Why can't I just bring myself to hate him? "Was there something else you wanted?"

"Yeah, I," it slips out before I can stop myself. FUCK! "Nothing. It's not important. I just thought maybe we could talk or something." _Stop you moron! Why am I still standing here?_

"Of course, Lex, anytime." He stands up and walks with me to the two big, over stuffed chairs. "Just sit down."

"I haven't had dreams like this since, right after mom die." I say. _Shit._ He—this—oh god. He's gonna lock me away for sure.

"Is that so? Well, how did you deal with the problem back then? Lex? Son, look at me. Look at me." He takes my face in his hands and pulls my face so my eyes meet his. Then he sort of chuckles. "Is that what all this is about? Hmm?"

"It's not funny, Dad. I haven't—I just—this. Stop laughing at me!" He touches my cheek, softly, over and over. "Daddy" I whisper. He stretches out one finger and strokes my lips. I close my eyes and then he stops. When I open them, he's gone. _Damn. Another dream._

"Well," my father's voice booms from across the room, kind, and soft. "Are you coming?" My head is spinning and my stomach flipping. I feel like I'm about to vomit. I stand up to go with him, but my legs torn to jelly and start shaking. I grab for anything I can reach on my way down and then my whole world turns black.

"Alexander," my mother calls out to me from the darkness. I open my eyes but I can't see anything.

"Lex,' Dad. His voice starts off being really soft and distant. Then it grows louder and more concerned, as he gets closer. The darkness slowly fades away. Everything is blurry. I blink a few times, and everything comes back into focus. I suddenly realize that I'm on the floor and my father is leaning over me. He really, looks concerned.

"What happened," I ask. I feel stupid asking him that, but I really don't know.


	4. Lonely Tear Drops

"Lex," Dad. His voice starts out soft and grows louder and more concerned as he gets closer. The darkness slowly fades away. Everything is blurry. After I blink a few times, everything comes back into focus. I suddenly realize that I'm on the floor and my father is standing over me and—and he really looks worried.

"What happened?" I feel stupid asking him that, but I really don't know. He stands up to leave and I reach for him. I can feel that my arm isn't as strong as it should be, but he stays. Dad helps me stand up and then sets me down on the couch.

"You passed out. I'm going to call a doctor. I'll come right back, okay?" He sits on the edge of the sofa but I grab him by the shirt as he turns to leave.

"No," I call out, probably way too loudly, but I don't care. "Don't leave me. I cant—I don't wanna be alone." He presses his lips to the side of my head, a kiss, the first one in ten years.

"I'll be right back. You need a doctor. Lex? Son, look at me. That's my boy. Do you want a drink? Some water?"

"Yeah," my voice croaks. "I think I'm okay now. Really. All I need is you." He puts a hand on my forehead.

"Lex, if there's a problem we should have you checked out by a doctor." I'm willing to bet that if I hadn't just been shot he wouldn't even give this a second thought, if I told him it was no big deal. Although, if I hadn't been shot, I wouldn't have had the nightmares, and I wouldn't have fainted, so, I guess it doesn't really matter.

"Look. It's probably nothing. I think I just had a stress reaction to not sleeping and from the nightmares. He sits down on the couch right next to me. Then he lifts my head into his lap.

"Lex, if you have a problem, you need to come to me. Got it?" Even though I nod he keeps giving me this look.

"Can we just stay here like this, for a while." _Please don't leave me._

"I think we could be more comfortable some place quieter. But if you don't want to get up, I can understand that." Dad lifts me up a little so we can snuggle. It's closer that I've been to him in—for a long time. I'd like to be happy but frankly he's scaring the crap out of me.

"Why are you just giving me all of this?" I mean, my dad has never given me anything I've wanted in my entire life, and now he's handing me this on a golden platter. Dad can't just give into me like this. He wouldn't do that. This can't be another dream. If I wake up from this alone in my bedroom when this is all over, I'll check myself into the nuthouse.

"What exactly is it that you think I'm giving you. WE were never that good a this whole father son relationship p thing. Why shouldn't we work on the only part we are good at?"

"So basically what you're saying is, you suck as a dad and I suck as a son, but we make good lovers so we might as well give up on everything else?"

"I wouldn't put it that way. Lex, you are my son and no mater what nothing changes that." So close, and yet, so far. Not that I ever imagined this as being easy. Figures he'd tell me that he'll touch me and fuck me but wont say I love you. "What is it you want from me?" I'm not going to tell him. He'd laugh, or hit me or yell, and then ship me back to the funny farm, or worse. _Please Love me. Be my father. I don't think that's too much to ask. Is it?_

"I don't know Dad; I don't think it matters," I lie. I know it's not convincing and until I can prove to him that I'm not going to make a fool out of myself in front of anybody important he's going to be worried. I don't think I even noticed it before, as he was doing it, but now he's moved me even closer. He's holding me the same way he held me that first night together, rubbing my back and kissing the top of my head.

"Lex, talk to me. I want to help you. I can't do that if you keep lying to me."

"How do you think I got so good at it," I spit. I really must be loosing it. My father isn't capable of loving anyone, least of all me. All I'm doing is setting myself up for more pain and rejection. I want to leave. Why can't I just walk away? Damn it. How does he do this to me? He makes me hate him, and need him all at the same time. I want to get up, leave, and never ever see him again, but at the same time I cant move until I hear Dad saying that he loves me. I'm a fucking emotional cripple.

"Lex let me help you. Tell me what you want." He kisses me again and I can't stop myself. I press my head into his chest and start sobbing hysterically. "It's alright—you're going to be fine." Dad starts to rub my back slowly, and kisses the top of my head over and over.

"Make it stop," I whisper, and regret it instantly. "I mean—Dad I—please, just." _Stop it. _I can't believe this. I'm either stupid or crazy or both.

"I'm here Lex. You can feel that, right? That's my boy. I promise. I'm not letting go. Whatever you need, I'll get it for you."

"You will," I ask and I can hear the weakness in my voice and I hate myself for it. It's almost like when I was little—the pre-meteor shower Lex. God he was such a fucking weak little looser—I have to be stronger. I have to **make** him love me.

"Of course," he says and his voice is soft and kind. I'm almost scared. He must feel it. My heart is racing. Dad rubs my back and makes this sort of shushing sound. "Lex, you're going to be okay."

"No, I'm not. Look. I need you to do something for me. I think that if you don't, I might, I'm not sure what'll happen. I'm scared Dad. I'm scared and I hurt." _Damn! Why did you do that?_ _He just got what he wanted from you!_

"I promise, Lex. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, it's yours. Whatever it takes, we'll get you through this." He keeps rubbing my back, and kissing me and making that noise.

"Why are you acting like Mom? It's scaring me." I don't know why I said that. It's just that he's never treated me like this. He's never treated anyone like this.

"I'm sorry. I just thought that if I were gentle with you, it would help. This is the way you like things, isn't it?"

"You mean as opposed to when we hate each other? Yeah, this is better, a little bit anyway."

"But this isn't what you want," he asks, his voice returns to its normal tone.

"I want to be with you Dad. I want you. And I need you to, I need. Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"Lex," he pushes, but not hard. I think he's still worried and he still thinks I want things to change. I mean I do want that, but not a huge change like this. "You want what? It's all right. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I don't know what I want." I've stopped crying. It's not much, but at least it's something.


	5. You Can See Right Through Me

Author's note: I am aware of how often I repeat the fact that Lionel is rubbing Lex's back, etcetera. It is meant to build up suspense. It's supposed to show that Lionel doesn't know how to help his son and that he figures that if he keeps doing this it will make up for that fact.

"You can see right through me"—Lois Lane (Superman The Movie)

Dad didn't believe me when I told him I didn't know what I wanted, which actually isn't that surprising. We've been doing this dance forever, it doesn't seem to matter what I do or say, he can see through even the best disguises of mine. He's giving me this look and I know he's trying to figure out how much he should push me on this. Just figures. Typical dad. He pushes me until I break, doesn't give a damn, but when he finds me in pieces on the floor he sort of wraps up the broken shards in bubble wrap but won't do anything to help me fix myself. Then when I finally do put myself back together he warns me about being fragile but doesn't change the way he treats me. This is my fifth cycle—sixth if you count the whole Belle Reve thing two years ago, which I don't---Jesus. _We aren't very good at this whole father son relationship thing? _Tell me he didn't say that. Very astute father, what's your next trick? Oh yes, that's right, you announced that I was your son. Gee I never would have come up with that one on my own.

"Lex, I want to help you," he says at last, for what has to be the millionth time. Yeah sure…help. He wants me to crack—that is of course if I haven't already cracked. His arm is still wrapped around me though, so at least that's something. "Why don't we go back to my room? Maybe if you get some sleep you'll feel better."

"No!" _Shit, did I just yell that? _ Dad lets go of me. I think he's scared of hurting me more. I think he isn't sure weather I said no to his room or something else—I don't—it's none of those things. I can't sleep. No more nightmares. If I don't sleep I can't dream anything. I'm not sure what will make the nightmares stop, but if—right now I can't sleep. "I mean—I can't sleep right now." He tries to force eye contact, but I'm not having it.

"Lex, do you believe me? You know I just want to help, right? Good," he sighs a little and his arm returns. His embrace is almost comforting, almost. "Son, tell me what to do. Please. I can't help you unless you talk to me. Help me help you." Maybe I can make a deal with him. If I confess to what I need, if I tell him what I want he might give me something. It might backfire, but if it doesn't . . .okay. Here goes everything. What do I say? Do I just come out and say, Daddy I need you to love me; or do I side step and double talk and fumble around sneaking little hints to him, until he gets it. But what if he gets the wrong idea. _Damnit! How did I get to be this weak?_

"I want to go to your room. I think it would be more comfortable. I think that would be good. Dad, I think there's something wrong with me." He helps me up and walks with an arm over my shoulder to his room. Then he closes and locks the door. He sits on the bed, pulling me into his lap. I feel myself curling up into a ball and no mater how hard I try to fight it nothing works. It doesn't matter. Dad's still rubbing my back, and kissing me.

"Alright. If there is a problem, we'll deal with it. But I'm going to be honest, Lex, I'm sure that you're fine. I've seen you when you've had problems. I've seen you at your worst, and you're nowhere near that. I think you are confusing the pain your feeling with some sort of emotional problem." Fuck! How does he do this? No wonder I never know how to deal with him. Every time I think I know what's going on he flips. Everything changes.

"Okay, so what do I do now? If I'm not crazy, and I am just in pain, how do we fix that?"

"I'm not sure," he admits. "Listen, I promise, we'll figure things out. You're going to be okay." He's still rubbing my back and kissing me, and all that but he's still not doing the only thing I want. It's like he thinks a few soft softly spoken kind words and a pat on the back is going to make him into a good father. He doesn't love me. Without that, nothing else maters.

"You've been right about me all along, Dad." I actually manage to look at him when I say that one. I have to know how he's going to react before I continue. I swear for a second, that he might actually cry. Then he swallows hard and rubs my back some more.

"No, Lex. I'm sorry. I was too hard on you, when you were a child, and in the past few years." He tries to hug me again but he's scared. He doesn't want to—I dunno. I'm not sure. He thinks he's trying to protect me. "Lex you are a good man, a strong man. Any father would be proud of the person you have become." There he goes again. He intentionally distances himself from me. He'll never say, 'I'm proud of you.' He'll never even be proud of me. I have t o stop now. If I tell him anything else, he—it won't be—no! I can't hold this in any longer; I'm going nuts. I have to talk. I have to tell him. I don't care anymore. At least it will be off my chest. Maybe I'll get some sleep then. "I am proud of you." I'm dreaming. I know it. He didn't just say that. He wouldn't say that. He never says stuff like that.

"Dad, you've been saying a lot of weird stuff today. I gotta admit; it's kind of freaking me out."

"I'm sorry for that, Lex." I don't know how much more of this I can take. "When I saw you in that hospital bed, I thought I was about to loose you. All I could think about how much I had hurt you." It only takes a minute for me to realize what an idiot I've been. I'm not supposed to leave Dad, not that I ever could. I'm supposed to help him. He kisses me again, but not on the head or the cheek. It's still not a real kiss, but I think he's just worried about me.

"I need something from you Dad," I explain, undoing the buttons on his shirt. I kiss him again, our tongues touch for an instant, and then I pull back. I start kissing down his body; neck, between the shoulders, between his nipples, just over his the navel, on his belly button, under it. Then I pull his belt free and pop the button on his fly and yank down the zipper. I pull the boxers and slacks to his knees. Dad grabs my face and stops me.

"Anything, Lex, anything, and you don't have to pay for it with sex. Ask me first, and if after you get it you still want this then we can continue." My eyes dart back and forth from his eyes to his cock. "Tell me you love me," I whisper, as quickly as possible.

"Lex. I love you. I will always love you. You don't have to do this," he touches my lips softly tracing them with his fingers, "to earn it. Do you understand?"

"I," my voice cracks. It hurts to swallow. It hurts to think. I don't even know what he said. After a minute I just sort of look to him and nod. "I think so."

"I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. I promise. I love you."


	6. The End i know I know, creative copout

I started crying then. Dad held me for what seemed like forever whispering in my ear over and over that he loved me. He didn't even care that I dint finish him off. I feel asleep crying, and I slept for seventeen hours straight. Dad was still there when I woke up. He was still holding me. Dad even said that he hadn't left my side the whole time. He also canceled the meeting he was supposed to go to so we wouldn't have to leave. I've been nightmare free for almost ten days now. I'm also still sleeping with Dad, and spending a much awake time with him as humanly possible. He's told me that he loves me—u don't know how many times.

Honestly, I stopped counting after about 500. Yeah, I know, I'm completely out of my mind. I counted, and counted, and counted. You can't blame me though. I was so scared it might not last. I started working again. I also decided to follow his advice. That's right, I'm taking it easy. I've been working half days, eating lunch with Dad and then just sort of relaxing. It's been nice. I'm not used to having this sort of free time, and being able to just—chill. Dad spends a lot of time holding me and he keeps saying that he loves me. And then of course there's the sex. Yeah, after my long, long, long nap, Dad kissed me and held me and said that he loved me.

Then I kissed him. Another real kisses, a long, long, long kiss. His tongue in my mouth, my tongue in his mouth, licking, and sucking and kissing. I started touching his face and he started touching mine. He had a tube of lubricant in his beside dressed, and he took it out. I guess some things never change. I don't know if the sex is necessarily better than it was before. I know now that I'm old enough to appreciate the things he does for me. I wont get into too many of the specifics, because it's private, you'll just have to use your imagination. I will tell you that he is always on top and that he doesn't—what I mean is that he—I dunno.

Maybe it's sentimental or sill or something, but I mentioned that I liked and he kept doing it. The fist time he made love to me that day—yes we did it more than once—he waited for me so we could both come together. It wasn't in unison or at the exact same time or any stupid thing that only happens in romance novels. He was just being considerate. And he told me that he loved me, over, and over, and over. After we finished we just lay there together. He held me so close I could hear, not just feel, but hear his heart beating. It's strong and steady. He kissed the top of my head and then tickled me a little. I laughed, really laughed and it felt really, really good, I mean fuck.

It's the best I felt in my whole life. I'm sleeping, without nightmares, doing well at work, and my father loves me. I think the best part of everything, even better than him saying he loves me (well not better than that but still really good) is waking up in the morning and seeing my father next to me. Every morning he holds me and kisses me and he's just there. I love him and I know things aren't completely fixed, but we're getting there and that's probably the most important part of all of this. There are a lot of good things, like this morning, for example and I know more is coming.

So this morning—that is what you wanted to know about right? I woke up and—this is still fairly normal—I panicked because I wasn't in my room. It was quick, half a heartbeat faster, two scared breathes, and then I remembered. Dad's been there every morning when I wake up, even though when I go to sleep every night I keep expecting him to leave. Dad's busy. He's got lots of stuff to do with Luthorcorp, and all, so I really wouldn't blame him if he got up before me and just left. That's why I keep waking myself up. Once I got used to sleeping again it wasn't bad at all. In fact, I've always been an early bird. So, I just get up before him.

Most mornings I don't even mind it. Today, Dad was lying there right next to me. He had one arm around my waist and the other on my shoulders. That would probably be the biggest change in all. He almost never touched me before, even when I was young—still haven't worked up the courage to ask him why, but anyway . . . No he's always touching me, holding me, caressing me. Like I said before, he was holding me extremely close physically. I could feel his hard cock pressed up against me as he slept.

His fingers move a little while he sleeps, usually that's what wakes me up. I was just lying there enjoying the feel of his body against mine, his smell (a hint of lavender and something stronger, and slightly sweet) when he woke up and kissed me.

"Mmm," I said mobbing a little so we could look at each other. His hand softly stroked the side of my face. The other hand slides lower, tugging and pulling. He used his thumb, gliding it over the head of my cock, using the pre-cum to lube my hard penis. After I cum he smiles and kisses me again. "Didn't you want to do something about that," my eyes dart to his own harness. He kisses me again.

"I wanted to help you feel first." Another kiss. Eventually I might get tired of this whole, you first thing, but for now it's really nice. We made love after that then we had something to eat and went to work.

"I love you, Daddy," I tell him, kissing his cheek and snuggling to his chest in the back of the limo. He takes my hand and squeezes it softly.

"I love you too, Lex. I love you too." That's all I've ever wanted. Now that I have it' I'm happy, and I think he is too. I guess we aren't as bad with this whole father son relationship as we thought.


End file.
